Bitter Perfection
by actions-we-remember
Summary: -VERY TENTATIVE TITLE! A oneshot series that takes place after my fic, Sweet Complications- Gemma lives on after her battle with Haresh, balancing her life with Kartik and her duty to the realms. But beneath the power she weilds, all Gemma is is human.
1. Wedding Night

_**UPDATE: Edited 1/13/09. I was **_**extremely**_** unsatisfied with how this chapter played out, so I decided to have it go through major reconstruction. I hope this result is better than the last! -B**_

**I told you this was coming soon! First off, the name of this fic is **_**very**_**temporary, and is the brain child of my friend and me IM-ing when we were half-delirious (it was between 'Bitter Perfection' and 'Trouble With Grandmama'—please PM or review a better title, because I'm clueless!). So was part of this chapter, honestly. But I tried. Really, I did. I also tried to take a suggestion from SassyAni and bring Kartik and Gemma to the Cave of Sighs for their wedding night, but that didn't work, so I got this instead. Please review, I've missed you guys!**

**Disclaimer: As always, I don't own the characters. And, also as always, Libba Bray does. Must I always reiterate that?**

The carriage comes to a stop in the grimy alley as the sun sinks lower in the sky. I unwillingly unwrap myself from Kartik's arms, smoothing my white wedding dress as he straightens his coat, both of which have wrinkles in them from our recent activities. Reluctantly, I slip my gloves back over my hennaed fingers, watching as the intricate pattern disappears beneath the fabric.

Outside, the carriage driver looks around doubtfully.

"Yer sure this is where you wanted 'a go?" he asks, glancing down as we descend from the cab. Kartik nods wordlessly, holding out the fee for the ride. The cabbie takes it, now looking between Kartik and me with ill-disguised disbelief. For a moment, it seems like he means to say something. But then, with a slight tip of his cap, he turns away and takes off without another word, the sound of his horses' hooves and his gruff warnings to nearby street urchins blending in with the usual nighttime sounds.

Kartik takes my hand. "Ready, Gemma?" he asks, squeezing my fingers softly. I smile at him.

"I suppose," I reply, releasing his hand to take his arm. Kartik smiles back, making my heart skip a beat, and leans in to press his lips to mine. After a brief moment, he pulls away, grinning mischievously.

"Good." Without warning, Kartik tugs me gently to him, and I feel my feet leave the ground. Before I can so much as squeak, I am settled securely in Kartik's hold, one of his arms hooked beneath my knees, the other behind my back. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around his neck, eyeing the ground uneasily.

"Kartik," I cry, feeling my cheeks redden, "what—"

My new husband sighs, bending down to silence me with a kiss. "Just trust me, Gemma," he whispers against my lips. "It's tradition."

I groan, but don't object anymore. With a soft chuckle and another brief kiss, Kartik sets off into the alley with me in his arms, headed for his apartment. The night closes in around us, but I find that I don't mind the darkness: I'm far too focused on the feel of Kartik's strong arms cradling me to his chest. My eyes roam over his features, trailing over the turmeric dot on his forehead nearly hidden beneath his dark curls, and over his sultry lips. In next to no time, we come up to the door to the apartment. I feel Kartik's muscles strain as he readjusts his hold on me to throw open the door, and then we are inside, Kartik kicking the door quietly closed behind us.

"Welcome home," Kartik murmurs, smiling dryly as he sets me gently on my feet. I laugh quietly in response as his arms snake around my hips, drawing me firmly into his embrace. My hands travel from his neck to his chest, coming to rest over his heart. A soft smile spreads across my face as his heartbeats pound surely against my palm.

Kartik places his warm hand over mine.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, threading his fingers through my own and lifting my gloved palm to his lips. I close my eyes and lean my forehead against his. Truthfully, I don't know _what_ I'm thinking. A million thoughts and emotions are chasing each other around my mind, each one clamoring for my attention. Eventually, though, I settle on the one that is the root of them all.

"I was thinking," I say, opening my eyes shyly, "about how much I love you."

Kartik chuckles softly and eases his mouth over mine, cradling the base of my neck in his free hand. A warm tickling sensation swoops down from my head to my feet as I kiss him back, cupping his cheek in my hand. Kartik pulls away ever so slightly, so that I can still feel his ragged breathing on my warm cheeks. He smoothly reaches up and tugs Grandmama's gloves off of my hands, letting them fall to the ground as his hands hold mine to his cheek. I feel the glint of our wedding bands press against my skin, a reminder of the promises we've made.

"I love you, too, Gemma," he assures me, enclosing me once more in his arms, "so much."

I beam up at him, twirling a lock of his hair between two of my fingers. "So you keep saying," I tease. Kartik raises an eyebrow.

"Am I to take it that you don't believe me?" he asks. I grin and shrug my shoulders. A smile tugs at the corners of Kartik's mouth as he brings his lips to my ear. "You should," he whispers.

I shiver agreeably as his lips draw a line from my ear to the corner of my mouth, hesitating for a fraction of a second before finally pressing against my lips. I kiss him back, feeling completely relaxed in his arms. I've been craving this, the feel of my skin pressed to his, all day. Now, I've got Kartik all to myself, with no one to stare us down, no one to impress with manners. My fingers impulsively trail over Kartik's shirt buttons, straight down to the waist of his trousers. I hear his breath catch in his throat and feel him lean into my touch. His hands press my hips into his. I wrap my arms around his neck to bring us still closer. The areas of me that are touching Kartik are on fire, and my hands greedily wind themselves in his hair.

Kartik pulls away, his lips hovering teasingly over my own. I gaze up at him, breathing heavily.

"You are entirely too good at convincing me, sir," I complain half-heartedly. "I shall be the worst wife in all of England." Kartik smiles and brushes his lips against mine.

"So long as you're mine," I hear him whisper before our lips are locked once more, our emotions silently doing the talking for us. Kartik's arms guide me to the bed, allowing me to fall onto it before climbing in after me. I laugh from the sheer joy of being together as Kartik's mouth explores my neck. He smiles against my skin, running a hand down my side and making my heart patter frantically. Obediently, I reach behind me for the laces of my dress, but Kartik stops me before I can unfasten the first one.

"No, Gemma," he murmurs into my ear, "let me."

The heat in his voice sends a shiver through my veins. Hands as light as air move to my back, slowly undoing the laces and buttons there. My breath comes out in raspy gasps as he opens his mouth on my neck, and my grip on his shoulders tightens. Slowly, so slowly, he reaches down for the hem of my skirt, pulling it up to reveal my thin chemise and corset. The soft material is pulled over my head, and my corset loosened. Kartik's mouth presses against my neck again, and I feel him trace warm kisses down my throat to brush against the newly revealed skin above the neckline of my chemise.

A soft moan escapes me. Kartik smiles against my pale skin. He slithers back up to my face, his lips hovering just above my own. His eyes are burning as he kisses me, once, twice, three times. I fumble clumsily with the buttons of his shirt, somehow managing to shove the unnecessary clothing away and run my fingers delightedly over the plains of his chest. Kartik's hands tug at my chemise, pulling it swiftly over my head before running smoothly over my skin.

My fingers are laced in his hair, and his hands hold my legs securely around his hips. Desire flows through our embrace like wildfire, deepening our kisses and tightening our holds until we can get no closer. When at last we do pull away for air, I reach for his trousers, quickly unlacing and pushing them down his well-muscled legs. I untangle our limbs and run my hands over his flawless body, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of his warm skin under my eager touch. Kartik balances his weight on his hands and knees, suspended several inches above me, pulling himself out of my reach.

"Kartik," I groan, unsettled without the feel of him above me, "what on earth are you doing?"

I shift my weight to reach him with more ease, accidentally brushing against the inside of his legs. He closes his eyes briefly, but comes no closer. Instead, he lifts a hand to my hair, pushing it out of my eyes. I lift my own arms to wrap around his shoulders to try to pull him closer, but he resists, eyes glittering ruthlessly. My finger trails down his throat, his chest, his abdomen. Kartik's brown eyes close as he moans softly. My lips follow my finger's trail exactly. Kartik's heavy breathing matches mine now as his fingers knot themselves in my hair. I bring my lips back to his and kiss him thoroughly, allowing his tongue entrance into my mouth readily.

Kartik's face drifts to my neck as I run my fingers through his hair, brushing my lips against his temple. His mouth opens on my throat, his tongue flicks out and just barely touches the skin there. My body reacts on its own accord, arching into his and shivering in pleasure. The metal of Kartik's wedding band presses into my back as he wraps his arms around me, returning the avid kisses I trail over his chest, face, and neck. I turn his own trick against him, opening my mouth and scraping my teeth against the skin on his chest, and he moans and tightens his hold around my waist.

"Kartik," I breathe, my voice a mere whisper against his brown skin, "I love you."

He kisses my shoulder as a response, cradling my hips in his hands, bringing me closer to him. I feel lightheaded from the warmth of his body pressed against mine. The scent of him surrounds me, and I'm lost in pleasurable oblivion with Kartik.

* * *

Hours later, I awake to a silent, grey-lit room. It is too early for morning, but too late for night, and for once, the alley and streets beyond it are quiet. Kartik's arms are clasped surely around me, his finger lightly tracing circles in my arm. I yawn and shift so that I am lying on my back beside him. Kartik smiles and kisses my bare shoulder.

"Sleep well?" he asks, nuzzling my neck.

"Very," I yawn, slipping one arm around his waist. "Did you?"

"Mhmm," he mumbles, head still buried in my neck. I kiss the top of his head. Something glitters in the soft light from outside. Glancing down, I see the wedding band on Kartik's ring finger, and one to match it on mine. A smile spreads across my face, and I bury my nose in Kartik's hair.

"It doesn't seem real, does it?" I ask, forgetting that Kartik can't read my thoughts. He blinks in mild confusion, his eyelashes fluttering against my jaw.

"What doesn't, Gemma?"

"This," I say simply, fingering his wedding band and letting my touch travel up his arm, ending at the corner of his mouth. I know I'm being vague, but Kartik seems to understand.

"Any regrets?" he asks, lifting his eyes to stare into mine. I plant a kiss on his forehead.

"None at all," I assure him, twirling my hand in his hair. A sudden, horrible thought strikes me. "_You_ don't regret it, do you?"

"Of course not," is his sure reply, and I relax.

We fall into a familiar silence, with Kartik's face nestled in my neck and my hands idly running through his dark mane. Images from our ceremony yesterday and the reception that had followed run through my head, most of them featuring Fee attracting attention in various ways. Possibly the most entertaining and certainly the most scandalous act had been her kissing a distant cousin of mine that I hadn't seen since early childhood in front of his furious mother and dumbstruck fiancé. And then there was Ann, smiling and dancing like she never had during our days at Spence. It didn't go unnoticed that her largest smiles and truest laughs were brought about by Charlie Smalls, who in turn seemed to delight in her presence, as well.

But not all of the night had been perfect. While dancing with Father, I had felt his weak and trembling steps in my very being, experienced his fatigue along with him. The dance we shared had seemed to drag on forever, and I saw the effort it cost my father to keep moving in his eyes. When the dance finally and mercifully ended, I had kissed his cheek and excused myself as fast as I could and practically threw myself into Kartik's arms, desperately holding back sobs. He had understood, and sat with me until I had gathered my senses again.

"Gemma?"

I look down at Kartik. He blinks back at me, looking concerned. "Are you all right?"

I smile weakly at the concern in his voice, mentally shaking my head to rid it of thoughts. "I'm fine, Kartik. Really," I add at the doubtful look in his eyes. "I was just thinking about my father." Understanding flashes in Kartik's eyes. He gently squeezes my waist in mute comfort, and I smile in return. "I'm fine."

Kartik nods, his arms around me still comfortingly firm.

"Your grandmother certainly seemed to enjoy herself yesterday," he changes the subject casually, mouth twitching slightly. I feel my own lips curving upward at the memory of my grandmother's behavior. Grandmama had taken to wandering about the reception with a glass of champagne in her hand all night, taking a healthy sip every time she caught sight of what she thought would be a scandal in the making—namely, whatever Fee happened to be doing at the time. Her former relief at my having an admiral's daughter as a bridesmaid had evaporated almost the moment she met Fee, to be replaced by horror at what everyone would think of her behavior. By the end of the night, Grandmama had been rather tipsy, something I had never seen before nor would ever see again.

Not that she had been the only one drinking. Lord Denby, who had been invited for the sole purpose of manners (and under Grandmama's strict orders), had been worse off than Grandmama, and Charlie and Ann had both been red-faced and glassy-eyed before disappearing for some time together. And from his loud conversation and his exaggerated movements, I suspected Simon had smuggled in some absinthe, though I doubt Lucy knew of it. Even Tom had his fair share of drink, although he stopped the moment I pointed out that the woman he was gazing at so flirtatiously was our distant uncle.

"Yes, I do believe she did have quite a night," I respond, still grinning. "I wonder how she's feeling today."

Kartik laughs. "Not at all well, I'm sure." A thoughtful look crosses his striking features. "What was your favorite part of the day, Gem?"

I think for a moment. In all honesty, every moment I'd spent with Kartik had been blissful, and now it's hard to choose a favorite. I'm debating between the carriage ride to the reception and the first kiss we shared as husband and wife when a third option comes to mind and wins straight out.

I smile and bring my hand to the back of his neck, drawing him in for a kiss. When we pull apart, I let my forehead rest against his as I whisper, "The wedding night."

Kartik chuckles softly before kissing me again. "I think I agree with you."

A smile spreads across my face beneath his lips. "Do you?"

"Mhmm," Kartik hums again, his lips moving from my own to my neck. "I might need reminding."

A thrill cascades through me at his words and the desire behind them. I'm only too willing to give him what he wants. Turning, I straddle his legs, kissing him fiercely. He responds with equal enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around my waist to draw me closer. The sheets covering his legs tangle in knots as he flips us over, balancing his weight so that I only feel a part of it. I let my lips reclaim what they traveled over last night, feeling his do the same.

Kartik softly calls my name against the skin just beneath my jaw. His wedding band leaves a cold, metallic trail behind it, in contrast to his hot touch, as he moves his hands up and down my side. I shiver again, both from the feel of his hands on my body, and from the thought that he is _mine_, completely mine. Before there had always been a chance they would be separated; now, we are free to spend the rest of eternity in each other's arms. With this thought in mind, I throw myself into Kartik's embrace, letting myself succumb to the wild craving I feel for my husband.

This is going to be interesting.

**And indeed it will be, for I have no idea where this fic will take me. But I'm sure it will be fun. lol And I know this wasn't very promising, but, come on, it's their wedding night. I can't help it if they're a bit more...amorous than usual. XD It will get better later on, I promise!**

**But I want to thank anyone who read Sherry (I personally think my summary was better than the actual fic), or my iPod shuffle challenge response. Your feedback is very much appreciated!**

**Got invited to join the National Honor Society (yay?),  
Brighteyes**

**PS- I would like to point out that it is currently 3 in the morning, and I am posting fanfic. For you. Your welcome (lol).**

_**Edit: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first time. I appreciate the support you gave, and I hope this time you don't have to lie through your teeth to tell me you liked it. ;D I'm off to edit chapter 2, so enjoy!**_


	2. Farewells

_**UPDATE: Edited 1/13/09 **__**I was **_**extremely**_** unsatisfied with how this chapter played out, so I decided to have it go through major reconstruction. I hope this result is better than the last! -B**_

**Disclaimer: Libba Bray owns, not me. :D**

"Gemma, did you hear me?"

I start at the sound of Kartik's voice and turn to look at him, removing my gaze from the sight of Bristol sailing past the cab's window for the first time in what feels like hours. "I'm sorry?"

Kartik smiles wryly. "I asked if you were all right. You were being unusually quiet."

A faint blush creeps up my neck as I shake my head. "No, I'm fine. Really," I add, seeing the disbelieving look on his face. I smile in an attempt to assure him of my ease, but even I can feel the tension radiating from my person, and my smile comes out as a grimace. Kartik slips his hand into mine, and I sigh.

"You didn't have to ask," I accuse him, leaning my head on his shoulder. Kartik's free hand wraps around my waist.

"No," he murmurs, "but I thought it would help."

I don't reply. Instead, I close my eyes, letting my thoughts drift again as the cab speeds towards the dock where the HMS _Victoria_—and my father—await. Until now, I've tried to evade the thoughts that relentlessly plague my mind, but in the light of today's events, I finally bend to the pressure.

In the weeks before my and Kartik's wedding, I had been able to avoid thinking about my father's nearing departure for India among all of the planning. Now, though, nearly two blissful weeks have passed since the wedding, and Father's ship is to set sail today. I have no choice but to think about it.

Kartik gives my waist a gentle squeeze. I look up at him. He's been wonderful these past weeks, being a much better husband than I am a wife. When Father had announced his date of departure, Kartik had almost instantly agreed to delay our honeymoon so that I could see Father off. And when he had woken in the middle of the night to find me crying over my father, he had held me until sleep overcame me yet again. Even now, the very morning of Papa's departure, I find myself relying on my husband's comfort.

The carriage comes to a shaky halt. Automatically, stress erases all of my thoughts. Kartik hops down from the cab first to help me. I follow him, nearly tripping over my own feet on my way down.

"Ready, Gemma?" he whispers, offering me his arm. I don't take it.

"I'm not sure," I croak, staring around at the large crowd. Kartik softly touches my shoulder.

"It's all right, Gem, you can do this." Kartik's hand is warm on my sleeve as he gently steers me in the direction of the _Victoria_. "You've done worse things than this."

With a sigh of defeat, I slip my arm in Kartik's and let him tow me through the crowd. The curious and, in some cases, scandalized looks from those around us as they take in the sight of Kartik's Indian arm holding my English one for once hardly register in my thoughts. I'm far too distracted to care. My heart beats more and more quickly with each step I take to the docks, and my grip on Kartik's arm grows tighter.

Halfway to the ship, I stop, shaking my head. "Kartik, I can't do this."

"Of course you can," Kartik murmurs, stopping with me. "Gemma, there's nothing to be frightened of. Your father is going back to the country he loves, and he's very happy about it. Is it so hard to let him go home?"

I shake my head again, blinking away premature tears. "I _can't_."

Kartik grips my hand in his. "Yes, you can."

My eyes meet his. They are filled with confidence, and assurance, both things I wish I possessed. "All right."

Kartik smiles, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing it softly. A passing woman with a bountiful bosom and a severe bun glare at us coldly. "That's my Gemma."

We set off again, our strides sure and purposeful. Kartik maneuvers us through the chattering crowd with ease, and we approach the _Victoria_ with almost frightening speed. At first, I see no sign of my father. But then a bickering mother and daughter standing near the ship move off, revealing a withered and very familiar man, dressed in his favorite white suit. My mouth instantly turns dry as Kartik directs me towards him until we stand mere feet apart.

"Here's my gem," Father says, smiling in a frail replica of his former beam as I come to a halt before him. "I was wondering when you would arrive."

"I'm sorry for the delay, Papa," I hear myself say. Thom wordlessly nods his greetings to Kartik and me from Father's left, his hands rigidly hidden in his pockets. I look around. "Where is Grandmama?"

"She and Father said her farewells at home," Thom puts in, sounding determinedly calm. "She didn't think the sea air would do her health any good."

I don't even bother to acknowledge Grandmama's blatant jibe at her own son. Instead, I turn to Father and ask, "When are you to board?"

"Any minute now," is his reply. Under the fatigue, I can see the excitement and joy that the return to India gives my father, and this almost eclipses my sorrow. It is plain that Father is eager to restore to the life he left behind, and my feeling wretched for him leaving will do neither of us good.

Father turns his gaze to Thom.

"Thomas, I'll…," he stops, looking uncomfortable, then starts again. "I'll see you at Christmas." Thom smiles thinly as he awkwardly shakes our father's hand, letting go far too quickly. I don't think I am the only one to notice the doubt in my brother's eyes.

"Have a comfortable voyage, Father."

With a curt nod, Father leaves Thom to stand before Kartik. For a moment, neither of them speak a word. I watch them anxiously, sure that nothing will happen but terrified that something might. Finally, my fears are put at rest as Kartik formally extends his hand.

"Take care of my daughter for me," Father says gruffly, shaking Kartik's hand. I see the silently added, "_Better than I could_," in Father's eyes, and I look away hurriedly to blink away fresh tears. My husband, however, steadily returns the gaze, looking my father straight in the eye.

"I will," is all he says, but the sincerity is plain in his face.

Seemingly assured, Father nods again before moving to face me. My heart flutters. This is what I had been dreading.

"Gemma," Father starts, but is stopped by a coughing fit. Concerned, I place my hand on his arm until his coughing subsides, unsure of what else to do. Some curious passersby allow their gazes to linger on Father's hacking form before moving on. Finally, Father's breathing returns to normal, and he looks up at me through slightly streaming eyes. "I'm sorry."

A lump rises in my throat. "There's nothing to be sorry for, Papa." And I mean it. My father is what he made himself become, but I have long forgiven him, though acceptance still evades me. If only he would forgive himself. A grim smile tugs at my father's lips.

"Good-bye, pet," he murmurs, pulling me into an embrace. I let my arms wrap around him, taking in his scent for what might be the last time. My lips brush against his gaunt cheek, and his weakly return the favor. I feel more tears standing at the ready behind my closed eyelids as I desperately hold back sobs. Will this strange ghost of a man ever return to what he once was? In my heart, I know it will never happen, but I refuse to let go of the hope. I feel his ribs poking me through my corset, and readily separate at my father's final whispered, "Good-bye."

I watch in silence as Father boards the ship, feeling Kartik's arms drape themselves protectively around my shoulders. The final horn for boarding blows, and I see Father in his ill-fitting white suit waving from the rail. I raise my arm to return his farewell. The bright sun, which before had seemed a mockery to our dreary parting, highlights the features of my father that have remained the same from my childhood, making him seem healthy again. Tears burn at my eyes, but I force them away for later. Father's smile, so wilted since Mother's death, seems to shine among those of the other waving passengers of the _Victoria_ as they grow smaller and smaller.

And then, with a final wave, Father is swallowed by the sea of bodies, and I can see him no longer. My gloved hand falls back to my side dejectedly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Thom shifting uncomfortably. He coughs.

"Er—well, I should be going," he mumbles stiffly. I look at him through misty eyes. He shuffles his feet again. "The hospital…will be expecting me…"

"Right," I reply, just as stiffly. For a minute, he just stands there, looking at me, with my teary eyes and Kartik's arm around me. Something flashes in his eyes, and his arm twitches, as if he means to reach out to me. But then the moment is gone, and he coughs again.

"Right," he echoes. "Well, then. Good-bye."

A brief, hurried kiss on my cheek, and a rigid shake of Kartik's hand, and I watch as my brother rushes away. My eyes tingle with unshed tears, but I hold them back, refusing to cry in front of so many strangers. Kartik squeezes my shoulders.

"We should be going, too, Gemma," he says to me, gently tugging me toward our waiting cab. Mutely, I follow, sliding into the carriage and staring out the window. Kartik sits patiently beside me, just as silent. His thigh is pressed comfortingly against mine, a reminder that he is there, but he leaves me to my thoughts, for which I am thankful. I need to get them in line before I speak, and Kartik seems to understand this.

Finally, the cab stops outside our dingy apartment. Kartik helps me down and pays the driver before following me to our lodgings, avoiding the few people who had ventured outside during the day. The click of the lock echoes through the alley, and I step into the apartment. Over the last few weeks, the small room has undergone a redecoration, so that it is cleaner, and brighter, than before. It's begun to feel more like a home, rather than a gloomy room. Still, we haven't done much: our new house is ready for us to move into after our honeymoon.

I make my way over to an armchair as Kartik closes the door, taking no comfort from the added decoration. I can feel his eyes on me, and when I look up, his brown gaze is the first thing I see. He still hasn't said a word, but I know that whenever I'm ready, he'll listen. I look down at the floor.

"Thank you for coming today," I tell my shoes.

"You don't have to thank me," Kartik replies. I shake my head.

"Yes, I do. You're always doing things like that for me—"

"Gemma," Kartik interrupts me, and I glance up at him, "I do everything because I _want_ to, not because I think I have to."

I stare at him. Not for the first time, I wonder what I did to earn him as a husband. His warm eyes are locked on me, and everything about him, from his stance on the edge of the bed to the sincerity of his words, exudes an air of understanding that I crave. A single tear flows down my cheek, followed by another, and another, until I'm crying in full-force.

In a matter of seconds, Kartik is beside me, wrapping me securely in his arms. The pure tenderness in his voice as he softly whispers my name only makes me cry harder. Patiently, Kartik strokes my hair and lets my tears stain his shirt. For several minutes, I try to speak, to tell him that I'm fine, but every time I try, more tears stream from my eyes, and sobs choke down my words. Finally, I give up and let myself cry into Kartik's shoulder.

"Shh, Gemma…it's all right. Your father will have a happy life in India."

"I know," I sniffle, blinking furiously. "That's not why I'm c-crying."

"Then what's wrong?" Kartik is obviously confused, but his hand on my hair is steady.

"I don't _know_," I exclaim in frustration, not at him, but at myself. Impatiently, I brush another tear away. "I know Papa wants to go back to India, and I know he'll be happy there." My head involuntarily rests on Kartik's strong chest. He gently rearranges us so that I am sitting on his lap in the armchair, still stroking my hair. I continue, "But it's like we're trying to send him back to his _old_ life, and we can't do that. Not really."

"Why?" Kartik prompts, smoothly wiping a tear from my cheek.

"Because _that_ life is over," I sniff, sliding my arms around Kartik's waist. "It ended with Mother. She made him happy. But he'll never get her back." Dimly, I realize my sobs have begun to recede.

"No one thinks it'll be completely the same," Kartik points out gently. "This is to make your father as happy as he can be right now. He was happy in India once. Maybe it'll happen again."

I don't respond, tucking my head under Kartik's chin. In my mind, I picture my father in India again, surrounded by the memories of a life he can no longer live. Is that what is best for him?

A sigh escapes my lips. "I feel so _useless_."

"There was nothing you could do," Kartik assures me, resuming his stroking of my hair.

"I know that," I sigh, feeling absolutely wretched again. "But what's the point in all this power if I can't help my own family without botching everything up?"

"Gemma, you know better than anybody that your magic is hardly more than an illusion," Kartik murmurs comfortingly. He twines his fingers nimbly through my curls. "Nothing you could have done would have completely cured your father. The only one who could do that was himself, and he didn't have the willpower to do that. It's not your fault."

Mutely, I nod against his chest. What he says is true, but it doesn't ease the feeling of worthlessness. Kartik seems to understand this. He holds me close, occasionally pressing his lips to the top of my head, letting me know without words that he's here, and will listen to me. Gradually, my mood lightens, calmed by Kartik's warm presence surrounding me, and I allow myself to relax into his hold. I marvel how just the sensation of his arms around me can send sparks through my veins, and how his steady breathing on my hair causes shivers to run down my spine. Beneath my cheek, Kartik's heart beats surely, a promise of life and stability.

Another sigh passes my lips. "I'm going to miss him."

"I know."

The complete and bleak understanding in Kartik's words bring my eyes to his face. With a pang, I remember that he hasn't seen his own parents since early childhood. Pity and empathy wash over me.

As always, Kartik seems to be able to read my thoughts. "You get over the pain after a while," he says, smiling sadly. "Eventually, you move on, keeping only your memories."

I nod. I remember how, after I had accepted the reality of my mother's death, all of my memories of her had eventually been filed away in my mind, tucked neatly out of sight until I needed them. Already, my recollections of Father have begun to take on a bittersweet, homesick quality. Kartik's words undoubtedly hold the truth, as they so often do. Still, I'm terrified I'll forget something, like the way Father's eyes shined when he told stories, or his laughter.

"Do you remember your family?" I ask Kartik quietly. Almost imperceptibly, he stiffens, and I feel my heart droop. I had been foolish to ask, knowing that he would not answer, at least not truthfully; until now, Kartik's family had, for the most part, remained an untouched topic. There is no reason for him to talk about them now.

Kartik, however, is a man full of surprises.

"A little," he tells me softly, sounding vaguely distant. "I was very young when they took me. What I can remember is hazy and unimportant." His chin comes down to rest on the top of my head. "I can remember my mother singing to me in Hindi every night. And my father telling tales of noble men who risked all to protect their charges. The Rakshana," he sniffs disdainfully. I place a comforting hand on his arm until he relaxes again. "The house always smelled of spices, and Amar's and my favorite food was dose. My mother didn't work, but stayed home to take care of her sons. Our father was the one who worked, trading, he said." I feel his mouth twist upwards in a smile. "I was happy, and spoiled, and loved."

I grin, imagining a young Kartik bouncing on his singing mother's knees. "Did you…have you ever tried to find them again?"

"No," Kartik answers sadly. "It is better for everyone if I do not."

His words leave me sad, but I know the truth to them. He is not the young son who left all those years ago to join the Rakshana; is a man now, and married, and freed of the chains of the Order's badly-dubbed protectors. Kartik has already left his parents behind, said his final good-byes, and seeing them again would only hurt them all. I lift my head from Kartik's chest to look at his face.

"Thank you," I whisper, cupping his cheek in my palm. Kartik raises an eyebrow.

"For what, Gemma?"

"For sharing that with me." Slowly, I raise my other hand to cradle his face. Then, I bring his lips to mine, kissing him softly. It is slow, and deep, but no less passionate than the fiercest we've shared in bed. It is a different kind of kiss, but one which exposes the same love.

A full minute passes before we part. Our unvoiced emotions still hover in the air, creating an almost static atmosphere around us. Kartik's hand smoothes a wayward strand of red hair from my eyes before kissing both of my eyelids.

"I love you, Gemma," he murmurs huskily. "You don't have to thank me for anything."

My mouth finds his. "I love you, too, Kartik."

Neither of us say another word for some time. We don't need to. The comfort of each other's embrace is enough for both of us.

_**Edit: So? Better the second time around? I'll have the third chapter up soon enough, I promise! Believe it or not, I've had part of it written for ages, but I'm having trouble getting it to behave. :S So, expect another chapter soon!  
-Brighteyes**_


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